


rivalry

by doqteeth



Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, but i lean towards goth, content warning: blonde haired blue eyed men, cuz its the best ship type, enemies to lovers speedrun actually, goth x popular, no appearance mention or description, no y/n, none of that dubcon fuckshit, or punk, reader's goth, you hate his guts and he wants to get in yours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29616861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doqteeth/pseuds/doqteeth
Summary: you, the local goth girl, are self-appointed mortal enemies with your school's golden boy. there's a hitch in your plans, though - you're trying desperately to ignore how attracted you are to him, and he's been pining after you for a while now. you two get paired together on a project, and shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Senpai (Friday Night Funkin')/Reader, Senpai/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 138





	rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy! big shoutout to my lovely editor @xqba - they posted a fantastic fic about senpai too if u want to go read it! just wanted to give you guys a headsup - we came up with the concept of calling senpai sam together, because calling him senpai for the entire fic would be weird LOL. basically if ur into pegging then go read their fic, if that's not your deal read mine. or read both! whatever floats your boat :) thx for reading!

No fucking way.

You stared, open-mouthed, at the board in front of the classroom. Written on it in big, blue, block lettering was  _ PROJECT PARTNER ASSIGNMENT  _ \- right under the title of “Agenda.” Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . How did you forget? You talked about this in class yesterday!

For a solid couple seconds, you stood there like a deer in headlights, brain buffering as you thought about what exactly this meant for today. There went your schedule of going home and crashing for a couple hours like you had  _ desperately _ wanted to - you’d been half asleep all throughout your earlier classes. Seriously, you just wanted a nap.

Maybe you were overreacting. Working with a partner wasn’t  _ that _ bad; you were just being kind of bitchy about it. You preferred to work alone most of the time unless forced to group up - it was easier to get the work done that way, and to be honest, having your grade depend on someone else itched at you. The way you saw it was that you liked to work alone, and other people liked to  _ leave _ you alone - and you didn’t mind that at all. You’d been called ‘intimidating’ or ‘scary’ more times than you could count; though honestly you didn’t see yourself as being  _ that _ menacing. Maybe it was the platform shoes you wore on a damn near daily basis. They did give you quite the height boost.

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. Partner work was such a joy. Especially in anatomy class. You couldn’t wait to be assigned to somebody who didn’t want to work with you and have to awkwardly talk to them about the neurovasculature of the upper extremities and then end up doing most of the work yourself.

Behind you, the door to the classroom opened, and an unfortunately familiar voice sounded.

“Hey, Mrs. B!”

Ugh. Of course. Sam. Sammy.  _ Senpai _ , as he was dubbed by the throng of girls that seemed to tail him at every turn. The golden-haired golden boy of the school, who was ever popular with teachers and students alike. His stupid shaggy blonde hair and big baby blue eyes and poorly done tie were the bane of your goddamn existence. You see, Sam and you had an… interesting history together. You, for one, knew that for all that sunny smiling he did, he was a real smug asshole when it came down to it. You’d had him in at least one of your classes each year for the past four  _ years _ , and you and him always ended up butting heads. It became a sort of unspoken competition between the two of you; who could figure out answers first, or turn in tests first, or whatever. Stupid shit like that that had always fucking itched at  _ something _ under your skin. And whenever he did manage to score a point over you, he never let you fucking forget it. He always found a way to make some smartass comment as he brushed by, or send you the worst goddamn smirk across the classroom.

God, he made your blood boil. Especially because he was so  _ bubbly _ around teachers, and they ate it up. The worst part of the whole thing was that, unfortunately, he was  _ cute  _ \- always flitting from class to class with a smile on his face with that stupid loose tie and popped collar. You wanted to punch him, but you didn’t want to get suspended - and also, since both of you were now 18,  _ you  _ could be legally charged for assault. While you considered yourself pretty good at arguing, you weren’t sure how well you’d hold up in a courtroom… so that path of action was pretty much out of the picture. Unless he made you  _ real _ pissed off one day, of course.

His shoulder brushed past you as he went to sit down, and you made a point not to look his way. Instead, you made your way over to the teacher, trying not to stomp on the tile flooring of the classroom.

“Hey, Mrs. B,” you said, shifting the weight of your bag on your shoulder and staring down at her.

She looked up, her eyebrows raising at your greeting. The crows’ feet around her eyes crinkled as she smiled at you and brushed some of her dark hair out of her face. “Hey there. Did you need something?”

“Uh,” you started, then glanced over your shoulder to look at the whiteboard again. “Did you have a list of the partners for today? Like, could I see them before class starts?”

Her brows furrowed, and she looked down at her desk. “I should have it somewhere around here.” There was a pause as she rummaged around through the clutter, looking under papers and folders before she found the object of her search. “Ah, here we go! Looks like you’re partnered up with… Sam. Oh, that’ll be good - I’m interested in what you guys can do when you work together.”

Your stomach dropped and your head felt a little light. Your first instinct was to spit out a  _ NO! _ with enough venom to kill a rattlesnake ten times over, but you swallowed your words and forced your face to remain neutral - or as neutral as it could be, anyway.

“Did you… have any other questions?” she asked, setting the paper back down on her desk.

“...No, sorry. Spaced out for a second there,” you lied, your hands clasping together loosely for a moment. “Uh, thanks.”

She nodded and waved you off, returning to her work. You returned to your seat and sat down, trying to tamp down the simmering annoyance that was building in your chest. Fuck. You didn’t want to do this. You couldn’t fucking  _ bear _ the thought of having to be civil with that pompous asshole long enough to produce a project worth a decent grade with him.  _ Fuck.  _ You were seated directly across the classroom from him, so you could see him now, talking animatedly with the girl next to him. God. Every time you looked at him, all you could see was him sneering down at you as he reminded you that he was better than you - in a subtle manner, of course. Gotta protect that poster boy image.

Jesus. You put your head in your hands and mentally rescinded your earlier statement about overreacting. This was  _ not _ overreacting - you’d just been paired with your nemesis, as dramatic as that sounded, and the project that rested on both of your shoulders was worth a  _ hefty _ chunk of your grade.

You barely noticed the seats fill in around you as class started. Mrs. B took her usual post at the head of the room, prompting your eyes to follow her as she talked animatedly. You wanted to listen, really, but your mind was… grappling with this new development, to put it lightly. You literally would have rather been paired with  _ anyone else  _ in the goddamn class. Just not Sam. He was infuriating in the way that he  _ was _ \- and you were sure it was because of his whole two-faced schtick. Not because of his actual face, which you realized (with no small amount of horror) you were  _ staring at  _ as you spaced out. With speed you were pretty sure was considered superhuman, you tore your eyes off of him and instead stared intently at the tile patterning on the floor beneath your boots.

If you’d stared for a second longer, you would have caught Sam stealing glances at you from across the room.

Class dragged by. Your eyelids were heavy and your head rested on your hand as you stared straight ahead - past the slideshow up front, past Mrs. B, past everything into space. Your white hot indignation and general anger from earlier had cooled into a heavy weight in your stomach, and you were instead thinking of viable exit plans once the final bell rang. Or maybe you wouldn’t exit at all - normally you drove home, but maybe you could stay after class and get a head start on the project. If you did a good chunk of your required work today, it would lighten the load for later  _ and _ lessen your interaction with Sam. Yeah. Maybe that was a better idea.

Mrs. B’s voice cut into your thoughts, and you straightened up. She was saying your  _ name _ , and you winced internally.

“Are you doing okay back there? You look like you’re falling asleep,” she said, leaning a bit over her podium and making direct eye contact with you.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, long day,” you said, looking down at your notebook and flipping to an empty page. You clicked a pen to add to your appearance of faux industriousness.

Seemingly satisfied, she returned to her lecture, and you looked up at the board. A flash of blonde caught the corner of your eye, and you made the mistake of looking over. Sam was leaned just slightly over his chair, looking you up and down with a stupid goddamn… expression on his face. It was like a smirk mixed with a sneer, and you wanted to wipe it clean off. Never had such a self-satisfied expression looked so natural on a face. Jesus. As if he hadn’t fallen asleep in class before.

You pressed your pen down harder than you needed to as you scrawled notes for the next couple minutes, trying not to think about the blonde sitting fifteen feet away, and his stupid long legs and baby blue eyes.

You tore your notebook paper a couple times with the pen’s point.

The rest of class came and went without you really noticing. At some point, Mrs. B took it upon herself to announce who was partnered with who - you still cringed at the mention of your name paired with Sam’s. People murmured as they talked to their partners - some talked about their prospects for the project, others got (luckily) paired with their friends and happily chatted away. You seethed in your seat quietly, rolling a pen between your fingers. Just get through today, you told yourself resolutely. Get a head start on your half of the project. Who knows - maybe you’d be able to skip out on interacting with Sam entirely, provided he went home right after school. The problem with that was that you saw him hanging in the hallways after school fairly often - he always seemed to be leaning on doorways, talking to teachers or helping them with things in their classroom. Ugh.  
When the final bell rang, you stood at your table and leaned on it for a moment, peering down one more time at your notes to make sure that they were roughly in order before you-

A throat cleared to your side. You looked up, and instantly, the fragile good mood you’d been rebuilding soured.

“Hello,” he offered, a tentative smile on his face. Maybe it was his version of an olive branch.

“Hi, Sam,” you said, shoulders tense, not looking him in the eye.

You could almost  _ hear _ the smile drop from his face. “You’re staying after to keep working, I’m guessing.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep. Sure am,” you ground out through your teeth. 

“Good. We can work together, then - unless, of course, you’re not feeling particularly up to the task.” he said airily, before placing his bag on the empty seat at the table next to you.

At  _ that _ , your head shot upwards and you fixed him with a glare that was downright  _ venomous _ . “Sorry, what was that?”

“We had the same idea, that’s all,” he said, feigning an innocent, almost  _ hurt _ look - complete with his eyebrows drawn together and his sparkling blue eyes crinkled. “Stay after class and get some of the project done. Since we  _ do  _ share the grade, wouldn’t it be better to work together?”

Jesus, you wanted to punch him. You really did, but there were still a couple students in the classroom talking to Mrs. B and you’d much rather there not be an audience around if you actually did it.

“Fine,” you said shortly. “Just try not to be an asshole for five fucking minutes and we’ll do fine,” you added under your breath.

His brows knit further together and he leaned closer, his blonde hair falling over his eyes as he opened his mouth, then shut it again and looked down to the side. Giving him only a side glance, you instead focused on Mrs. B, who was clearing something up with the last students in the classroom. She gave them a good natured wave and sent them on their way before turning to you and Sam, her hands clasped together.

You opened your mouth to speak - guess who took the words right out of your goddamn mouth.

“Mrs. B,” Sam said, a dazzling grin sliding over his face. “Is it alright if we stay after to work? We won’t bother you.”

Your face felt hot with both indignation at being  _ spoken over _ and embarrassment at the person speaking over you being  _ Sam. _ You closed your mouth and gave him another brief sideways look - one that probably didn’t portray as much fury as you wanted it to.

The teacher’s eyebrows raised slightly and she glanced down at her watch. “Well, I actually have an appointment I need to go to, so I’m leaving now…” She paused, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “Look, I trust you guys won’t tear up the classroom. Just lock the door when you leave, okay?”

Sam nodded, his blonde hair bouncing with the motion. You definitely weren’t looking at it. Or him. Well, you  _ were _ , but it was out of rage. “Of course. I hope your appointment goes well!”

Mrs. B flashed him a smile. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just a dentist appointment - ah, I really gotta get going. Have fun, you two!”

He waved at her. You gave her a small wave and a placating smile as you watched her hurry out of the room, her heels clicking sharply on the tile flooring. The door swung shut with a sigh behind her, and you waited until the latch clicked into place to whirl on the blonde next to you. 

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” you snapped. The white hot feeling of swirling anger and embarrassment bubbled to the top again, sending your heart into your throat.

“What do you mean what was -  _ that?  _ Me talking to the teacher?” Sam said, his eyebrows raised, seemingly  _ surprised _ at your outburst. “I was just making sure we-”

“You took the words right from my fucking mouth! All you do is speak over me!” you said, hands clenched tight at your sides as you turned to face him fully.

“You didn’t even  _ say _ anything!”

Okay, maybe he had a fair point there.

“You were looking right at me! I had my-  _ ugh _ , I literally opened my goddamn mouth and you had to come in and just fucking-  _ ugh! _ ” You wanted to  _ rip your hair out _ . Finally, a confrontation where you could present your long-simmering feelings, and you couldn’t seem to come up with the words you needed.

“Had to come in and  _ what _ ? Ask the teacher a question?” Sam said curtly, his confusion dissipating and becoming replaced by irritation. “It’s not like it’s the end of the world,  _ honestly _ .”

“Oh,  _ fuck you! _ ” The interjection burst out of you, and you took a step towards him. He backed up in response, his lips parting for a moment. “No, it’s not the end of the fucking world, but Jesus  _ Christ _ , you’ve been doing this shit for the past four fucking  _ years! _ Every, and I mean  _ every _ class I have with you, you always find a way to one-up me!”

During your heated monologue, you kept backing him up step by step, your platforms heavy on your feet. Sam looked a little panicked, as if he were trying to walk the line between his two fronts at once. You could see his people-pleasing self show in the awkward smile that half-crawled onto his face before slipping away; you could see his dickhead self show in the way his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of a response that matched yours in pure venom.

“Every class, you have to be  _ better,  _ you have to be  _ faster _ , you have to show that you’re the - god, I don’t know - the fucking  _ golden child, _ ” you snarled, voice becoming hoarse. “And you have to rub it in my face every fucking time! We’re  _ eight-fucking-teen _ now, for Christ’s sake, and you  _ still do it _ ! And the worst part is you act like you- you act like you  _ don’t  _ do this shit. To everyone else, you’re just  _ peachy _ . You’re cute, you’re funny, you’re a social butterfly. Teachers  _ love  _ Sam.  _ Students _ love Sam. You act like you’re so  _ nice _ and  _ fun _ and it feels like I’m the only goddamn one who knows what an  _ asshole _ you actually  _ are! _ ”

You jabbed a finger into his chest for emphasis on the last word, and his eyes flicked down to your hand for a second, his breathing… heavy, for some reason.

“And maybe we could’ve been  _ friends _ if you weren’t- if you weren’t-  _ ugh _ , if you weren’t  _ like this!  _ Because yeah, you’re cute. When you _ feel like it _ , you’re funny. Nice.  _ Whatever _ . But none of that shit matters. None of it. So. Go ahead, Sammy.  _ Senpai _ , I mean - tell me, why exactly  _ do  _ you feel the need to- to  _ beat _ me in  _ everything? _ ”

You noticed, then, that he had stopped moving. You’d backed him against the counter against the wall of the classroom, and one of his hands was planted on it. The other hovered at his side awkwardly - but you weren’t focused on his hands. His eyes were wide; the blue caught the low light of the darkened classroom with a dull glint. His lips were still parted, and as you watched, his tongue darted out for half a second to wet them. During your speech, his hair had fallen back over his brows from where he’d pushed it back with his hand (something he did often) - you felt an…  _ itch _ to fix it. What the fuck. What the  _ fuck?  _

“Sam?” you said, your eyes searching his face for some indication of mood - was he angry, or upset, or--

You didn’t have time to get another word out. For a second, you felt the heat of a hand pressed against your jaw, holding your face in place as a pair of lips -  _ Sam’s  _ lips, you realized with a thrill - crashed hard against yours. Your brain blanked and you stood there, frozen, as Sam- as he- as Sam  _ kissed _ you, his mouth hot and  _ fervent _ on yours. A noise choked out of your mouth into his - something sharp that definitely indicated surprise. And then it was over.

He broke away from you abruptly, his hands on your shoulders as if he wanted to physically push you away - or push himself off of you. Your brain finished rebooting, and you looked him in the eye. His cheeks were a  _ bright _ pink, and his lips moved as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite think of the words. He looked… a little horrified at his own actions, but mostly enormously flustered and it seemed neither of your brains were running at max capacity at that very moment.

“I’m- I- I’m sorry,” he started, tripping over his words. That time, for once in your life, you got to interrupt  _ him,  _ and it was  _ glorious _ .

You grabbed him by his stupid pink tie and pulled him back in for a bruising kiss - one that you hoped communicated all of your fucking frustration. It was his turn to make a surprised noise - that sounded suspiciously like a squeak - except this time, his drifted off into a soft, muffled  _ moan _ against your mouth. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you let go of his tie and looped your arms around his neck, your hands tangling in the choppy blonde hair at the back of his head. Was this… wrong? Was it weird? Yes. He was supposed to be your  _ nemesis _ \- he  _ was,  _ but  _ Jesus Christ _ , he was good at kissing.

You both pulled apart, breathing hard and pulses thrumming in your ears, but your hands didn’t move - you kept him pulled close, your thumbs brushing against the short, wispy hair at the back of his neck. From here, you could see - or  _ appreciate _ , rather - how… pretty he was. His eyes had gone from widened to lidded as he looked at you, his eyelashes a dark gold. A smile that looked a lot like disbelief came over his soft, parted lips. A hand snaked up to your chin and gently gripped it; his skin was  _ warm _ against yours, and it made your breath catch in your throat for a moment.

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you liked me,” he breathed, his eyes roaming your face.

“Why the hell did you kiss me, then?” you asked, drawing your head back slightly, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“You said I was  _ cute _ ,” he said matter-of-factly, a self-satisfactory smile replacing his incredulous one. That smug bastard.

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“You know, I’m starting to think that might not be true,” he said, grinning at you as he leaned back in - but he didn’t go for your mouth.

Your head felt fuzzy as Sam’s lips instead brushed your  _ neck _ \- they pressed lightly against the delicate skin there, and you sucked a sharp breath in through your teeth. At your sudden inhale, you felt him grin against your skin, and your cheeks were hot from a combination of a little embarrassment and whole lot of  _ fuck, this feels really good, when did he get so good at this?  _ A soft sound drifted from your lips as his butterfly kisses turned more insistent - and turned further south, peppering across the juncture of your neck and collarbone.

When he used  _ teeth _ , you jolted. “Fuck! Jesus,  _ Sam- _ ”

He pulled back almost immediately, looking worried. “Are you alright? Did I- I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You felt your blush increase in intensity roughly tenfold - the warm feeling spread past your cheeks down your neck and what felt like the rest of your face. Swallowing hard, you spoke, shifting in place just slightly.

“No, I…” You looked to the side. “I liked it. Keep going… please.”

A breathless laugh escaped the blonde in front of you. “What, you’re not mad at me? I would have expected a slap to the face or something.”

A groan dragged itself out of your mouth and you gave him the most unimpressed eye contact and tone you could muster. “What, are you into that? You want me to hit you?” 

Brilliant pink dusted his cheeks, and his eyes widened some. “No! I- I think I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually.”

You snorted derisively, though the bright shade of his blush against his pale skin was something that was definitely imprinted in your brain from now on.

God. God, this was such a bad idea, but it felt so  _ good _ \- fuck, it felt  _ really _ good now that his head had dipped back down to your neck and he was nipping at your skin and his hands were  _ roaming. _ They smoothed down your sides and gripped at your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake underneath your shirt; the more he touched, the more you shivered despite the heat you were feeling in your face. Noises that you definitely weren’t proud of escaped your lips, pitching when he pressed his teeth into your neck or when his tongue slid over the marks he made as if to soothe it. 

When Sam’s hands skated down to the fabric of your skirt, you slid a hand up to his chest, pressing a palm against him to give you space. He withdrew from your neck, looking visibly confused and… messy. His soft pink lips were bruised, and his hair was falling every which way from the way you’d been running your hands through it. His tie, hanging loosely from his neck, was wrinkled and creased from where you’d grabbed it

“Is something wrong?” he said, leaning back against the counter, his eyes glancing between you and the hand on his chest. “Do you… want to stop?”

“No,” you said, feeling a grin crawl across your face. “Just wanna do something else. You wanna keep going?”

“I- well,  _ yes _ , but I’m just making sure-”

“ _ Sam _ ,” you said, nudging his foot with your boot. Your hand slid down over the flat plane of his chest, drifting dangerously low over his clothed stomach. “I’m saying yes. Are you?”

He sucked in a breath. “ _ God _ , y-yes.”

At his eagerness, you laughed, your shoulders shaking. You muffled the sound by dragging him in for another kiss with one hand at the back of his neck, pressing him against the counter with your hips. He let out a sharp, surprised “ _ Hgh! _ ” against your lips when your free hand dipped down to his belt buckle, fumbling with it because you couldn’t fucking see and you only had one hand to work with and  _ Jesus, was he hard already? _

The soft jingling of his belt told you that you’d successfully worked it free. You drew back, your grip on his neck loosening; when you looked down, you made a somewhat surprised “hm,” pleased that you’d gotten his belt undone so quickly with just one hand. Sam’s ragged breathing was heavy in your ear, and you gave him a wry grin as you let go of his neck completely and sank to your knees in front of him. The tile was cool and hard against your legs, but the expression you saw when you looked up  _ more _ than made up for the subtle discomfort.

Sam’s eyes were so big that you could see a rim of white around his entire glittery blue iris. His mouth hung open, and a fiery blush had spread across his entire face and down his neck (though, granted, your field of view from your position was limited). A chunk of golden blonde hair fell in his face, and he pushed it out with such feverish speed it almost made you laugh again. Almost. You swallowed it.

“Wh- You’re- What are you  _ doing _ ?” he gasped, his knees bending as your hands danced up his clothed thighs. 

“Well, I’m gonna suck your dick, dumbass,” you said, raising your eyebrows at him. Don’t laugh, you said to yourself, reprimanding your brain. “I can  _ stop _ , if you want. But I think that’d be kind of a… dick move of me, no pun intended.” Your hands glided upwards to his bulge, and you trailed a finger down the hot, hard length of it. You were surprised, honestly - all you’d done was  _ kiss _ , and he was this turned on?

Above you, there was a sharp gasp. At the touch of your hand, his hips jerked a little. “Ah- _ hah _ \- No, don’t st-stop,” he stuttered out, his knees shifting apart as far as they could in the confines of his pants.

With a small smirk, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and tugged them down his thighs to keep them out of your way, inadvertently taking his boxers with them. Your motions were strictly utilitarian - there wasn’t really a sexy way to wrestle a guy’s pants down his legs, but you were pretty sure Sam didn’t give a flying fuck.

Yeah. He was hard. The length of his cock bobbed in the cool air of the classroom - the swollen tip was a deep pink and precum shone in streaks down the shaft. You took a breath in to steady yourself and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the dripping tip.

“ _ Hah- god, _ ” he sighed above you as his dick twitched at the touch. Emboldened, you ducked your head and, carefully, licked a stripe up from the base to the tip. His response was immediate - his hips jerked forward again, harder this time, chasing your mouth. “ _ Jesus,  _ that- you- th-that’s good _. _ ”

His reaction stirred something in you - there was heat coiling deep down, heavy and  _ present. _ You shifted on the floor, your hips rolling a little to relieve the hot tension swirling in your stomach. The wetness in your panties was  _ apparent _ , and your breath hitched at the feeling of the damp fabric against your clit.

“Fuck,” you whispered, trying to focus as you took his cock in hand - it was warm to the touch and Sam was… sensitive. You could  _ see _ the muscles in his thighs tense when you touched him, and he was  _ noisy _ on top of everything. But honestly, whatever he’d said beforehand didn’t compare to when you  _ actually _ took the head of his dick into your mouth.

“Oh  _ god, fuck!  _ I-” he yelped, both of his hands flying backwards to grip the counter he was leaning against with white knuckles. “Careful, it’s-  _ hah _ ...”

You couldn’t have looked  _ that _ attractive - right now he was probably getting an eyeful of your forehead, but you tried your best to maintain eye contact with him as you worked more of his cock into your mouth. It was heavy on your tongue, and you were careful not to let your teeth scrape it - or at least scrape it  _ that _ much - as you began to bob your head up and down, lips dragging around his cock with  _ horrifically _ lewd sounds. Your tongue slid along the bottom of it as you worked, trying not to go too deep - your gag reflex was… picky, to say the least. Warm hands gripped at the junction of his hips and thighs, and your nails raked over his skin as you used him to steady yourself.

Noticing a sudden lack of noise, you looked up, eyes half-lidded.

Sam had gone from using both hands to support himself to leaning hard on one - he had the other one pressed so hard to his face that his nails were digging into his skin. His eyelids fluttered, and his pale skin was both damp with sweat and cherry red with blush. Over the sounds of your mouth around his dick you could hear  _ him,  _ all muffled moans and whimpers of your name that he tried desperately to keep quiet - and he was staring at  _ you _ .

The sight of him so disheveled made you rock your hips more as your cunt  _ ached _ . God, you wanted him. More specifically, you wanted him to bang your brains out.

You hummed around his cock, and he nearly doubled over. He made a  _ lot _ of noise - like, a concerning amount. What if someone heard? What if someone  _ walked in? _ Walked in and saw the school’s precious poster boy Sam muffling trembling moans while he was getting his dick sucked by  _ you _ , no less? The thought sent a tingling thrill up your spine. What if--

Your brain halted. So did your mouth. In fact, you reared your head back, releasing his dick with a wet pop. Before you spoke, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, attempting to catch most of the drool and precum on your lips.

“Hey! You- you can’t just--!” Sam yelped indignantly, his hips jolting.

“Did you-” You glanced at the door of the classroom. “Did you lock the door?”

“What?” He sounded utterly bewildered.

“Did you _ lock the door _ ?” you said, raising your eyebrows for extra emphasis on the last couple words.

There was a beat of silence. “No, I don’t... I don’t think so.”

You rocked back on the heels of your boots, sliding your hands off his thighs and putting them resolutely on yours. “Well, unless  _ you  _ feel like traumatizing the janitor…” You gestured vaguely at the door.

He gaped at you for a second before his higher brain function seemed to kick back in and he nodded wordlessly, hurriedly pulling his pants back up and stumbling to the door. You’d tried not to laugh before, but watching him trip over himself and his pant legs as he  _ booked _ it to the door to lock it made you downright  _ snort. _ Boys were such a joy.

As he clicked the lock on the door shut, you stood up, your knees aching from kneeling on the floor for so long. Your jaw was aching, too - you brought a hand up to it to massage it absentmindedly. It was worth it, you thought, as Sam crossed the room back to you, still  _ blatantly _ hard. Definitely worth it.

The smirk that crept onto your face was nothing short of shit-eating, and you wanted to crack some smartass quip at him, but his expression was a little… intense. His brows were set, his face still deeply flushed and slick with sweat, and his bruised lips were parted as he came up to you, gripping your chin with no hesitation and pulling you in for another smoldering kiss. You let out a soft moan against his mouth, your heart picking up again as his hands drifted low. You wondered, briefly, if he could taste himself on your lips.

Sam backed you up a couple steps until you hit a table, and you froze when he pulled back from your mouth. Eyes sweeping his messy appearance, you tilted your head.

“Something up?” you asked, more breathily than you would’ve liked.

“No,” he said, a horribly familiar grin appearing on his face. “Just want to try something else.”

Without another word, he dropped to his knees in front of you. Your brain well and truly blanked - you  _ reeled _ as your dripping cunt made its need for attention  _ known _ , and you squirmed in place, unable to take your eyes off the boy kneeling in front of you like he was… like he was about to  _ pray. _ When his hands smoothed up your thighs, all the air left your lungs.

“Ah, Sam- you- you know you don’t, uh, you don’t have to,” you choked, a feverish blush spreading over your face and down your neck. God, you felt woozy.

Warm hands slipped under your skirt and found the waistline of your black tights, hooking fingers into them and dragging them down your thighs. Holy  _ fuck _ , you might pass out right there. You were so wet you were  _ certain _ it had soaked through your panties, and you were shuddering at his touch. Why did he  _ do _ this to you? How? Weren’t you supposed to hate him?

Sam spoke as he worked your tights, panties included, down to your ankles. “What do you mean I don’t have to?” he asked, feigning innocence disturbingly well - sunny smile and everything. “I’m just returning the favor.”

“Well, I- you know--” you faltered, your words drifting off into a needy sound as he dragged his hands back up your naked legs, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs like he was holding you in place. As if you were going anywhere.

“Hold this for me,” he said, that same smug grin never leaving his face as he bunched up a chunk of your skirt in one hand and held it up to you from where he was kneeling. Holy shit, he was really going to do this. Holy shit. With a hand that was trembling in anticipation, you balled up the fabric in a tight fist, unable to take your eyes off of him.  _ God _ , he looked good like that. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie draped loose over his collarbones, wrinkled from all the yanking you’d done to it. His hair was wild, with golden blonde locks curling every which way. He stared up at you with something close to reverence - and it would have been closer, if it weren’t for the raging hard-on he had tenting his pants.

And then he put his mouth on you, and you nearly collapsed. Your knees buckled, and your free hand slammed against the table behind you to keep you standing because  _ holy fuck, that felt good _ . What he lacked in skill, he  _ more _ than made up for in eagerness, because he was eating you out like you were his last goddamn meal. His tongue lapped over your cunt in broad strokes, and your toes  _ curled _ inside your boots at the feeling.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,  _ fuck,  _ Sam- hah,  _ shit _ ,” you stammered out, your words broken and punctuated by sharp breaths. When his tongue slid upwards to your clit, your thighs clamped around his head on reflex. “So-sorry-  _ fuck, right there! _ ” 

There was no indication that he heard you other than the fact that he was focused entirely on your clit now, and your orgasm was coming at you like a goddamn freight train. Your thighs were trembling, still squeezed around Sam’s head as your hips moved of their own accord, chasing the feeling of his tongue on your cunt. Holy shit, you were going to come. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. You wanted to muffle yourself like he did, but you were literally gasping for breath and one hand was focused on keeping your skirt pulled up while the other kept you from dropping like a sack of hammers. Your entire body was hot and your head was swimming in jumbled thoughts of  _ fuck, this feels so good _ along with  _ I’m gonna come _ \- among other things.

You felt a hand snake in between your thighs and fingers press at your dripping cunt almost  _ experimentally. _ You swore, though your thighs shifted apart a little at the intrusion to allow Sam better access. Without warning, he slid a finger inside you, and you reeled, your mouth open in a silent gasp. You clenched around his finger with a broken moan, tears pricking at your eyes from the feeling. Mouth hanging open, you stared down at him dizzily, your legs feeling weaker and weaker by the second. When he added another finger, you downright  _ keened _ , your hips bucking against the feeling of his hand.

“G-god _ damn _ ,  _ fuck,  _ you’re-  _ ah- _ ” The words came from your mouth without stopping - though, to be honest, they weren’t really  _ words.  _ Just a whole lot of fractured syllables interjected with breathy moans. 

It didn’t take long to have you on the brink of coming. There was a coil of heat in your lower stomach, already tightly wound and getting tighter by the second. Your legs were barely keeping you upright - honestly, you were pretty sure Sam’s death grip on your thighs was doing most of the work. The combination of his fingers crooking inside of you, dragging along your walls as his tongue worked at your clit was  _ too much _ , especially when you looked down and made  _ eye contact  _ with him. He stared up at you with lidded eyes and messy hair, and your stomach did a somersault. And then he hit  _ right there  _ inside of you - that spot that felt like goddamn heaven - and you came. Hard.

“Oh  _ god _ \- yes, I’m-  _ Sam! _ ” Your hand went from leaning on the table to fisted in his hair in a heartbeat. Heat bloomed in your stomach as that building coil snapped and sent you over the edge. As you knotted your fingers in the choppy blonde cut, you  _ pulled _ , feeling him moan inadvertently against you as your hips bucked forward. You held him there for a solid couple seconds as your orgasm crashed over you, clenching around his fingers as what felt like your entire body shuddered in waves.

It took you a fair bit to come down from your high. When you did, though, you immediately released Sam from your clutches, feeling embarrassed at the fact you’d basically suffocated him for a second there. You leaned back against the table on both hands this time, letting the now wrinkled fabric of your skirt drop back down to where it originally sat. Your legs felt like  _ jelly _ , and your thighs still twitched erratically. Chest heaving, you looked at Sam, who was getting up from the floor as gracefully as somebody who looked  _ painfully _ hard could. He wiped at his mouth with his shirt sleeve, and you looked away, flustered.

“You’re  _ loud _ .” He stepped towards you, and for a second he hesitated, unsure of what to do or where to put his hands. When you shifted your boneless legs apart once more, he seemed to get the idea.

“Yeah, well, so were  _ you _ .”

“I  _ tried _ to stay quiet, at least!” The indignation was clear in his voice, but it wasn’t serious.

“Not hard enough,” you said with a grin, feeling a flutter in your stomach as you remembered how desperate he had sounded with your mouth on him.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled.

“Uh huh.” The grin didn’t leave your face as you leaned forward, off the table, and reached down so your palm could glide over his dick, haphazardly tucked away and still  _ very _ hard. He jolted. “Are you gonna fuck me or what, Sammy? Kind of rude to leave a lady  _ waiting. _ ”

“Ye- _ yeah,  _ I- here, get on the table,” he said hurriedly, and you let out a short laugh, doing as he said and seating yourself on the table behind you.

There was a resounding  _ thunk _ , and the both of you jumped and froze, as still as statues. Dread crashed over you in a cold, horrifying wave, and your eyes flew wide as you leaned around his shoulder, staring at the closed classroom door. Sam looked petrified. A beat of tense silence passed - and then you realized what had happened.

“Oh my  _ god, _ ” you said incredulously, the horror draining from your body.

“What?” Sam hissed, obviously still convinced that the two of you were about to get caught.

“It was my fucking shoe,” you said, and busted out into actual laughter, holding up a hand as if to stop Sam from saying anything. You gestured down to your feet, still clad in your platform boots, to explain. “It- it hit the table leg when- when I sat on it! Oh,  _ shit _ , that was good.”

Sam’s shoulders drooped as he sighed, the tension leaving his frame as well as you cackled. “Holy fuck. I thought- I thought we were about to get  _ caught _ .” His voice cracked with his admission. 

“Yeah, me too,” you said, the last of your chuckles dying away as you swung your legs up and unzipped your shoes, kicking them to the floor. They hit the tile  _ loudly _ ; so loud the both of you flinched. “We’ll be fine. I think.”

“We’ll be fine if you stop  _ talking _ ,” he muttered, hands clumsy as he undid his pants and pulled them halfway down his thighs, his dick springing free. Your heart skipped a beat and you glanced down at it, then back up to his face. Yep. You were about to do this.

Getting into as comfortable a position as you could on the hard, cold surface of the table was a task and half, but you managed. With a shimmy, you worked your tights off of one leg, leaving them hanging from the other so your ankles weren’t restricted. You shucked the fabric of your skirt back up on your hips, exposing your dripping cunt to the air and stamping down any insecurity rearing its head.

“ _ Fuck,  _ you’re hot,” Sam blurted, closing what little space was left between the two of you and caging you in on the table with his arms. The head of his cock, hot and insistent, pressed against your cunt and you let out an involuntary gasp -  _ fuck _ , you wanted him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, mouth feeling dry. “You too, when- when you’re not being a dick.”

Sam shook his head with a sigh. Your eyes flicked down to his dick, lips parted, as his hand moved down to it, guiding it home. The head pressed into you, and your hips jerked at the intrusion and the  _ stretch _ \- above you, Sam faltered with a yelp. 

“More,” you whined, twisting at the feeling. “Come on,  _ please, Sam _ \--  _ ngh! _ ”

With a fluid motion, he buried himself in you with a harsh gasp, his narrow hips stuttering as your cunt welcomed him. “Oh my  _ god, _ ” he  _ moaned _ , your name falling from his lips. “ _ Fuck _ .”

The stretch escalated to a burn, and you struggled to find breath at how  _ full _ you felt. Fuck, it felt good - it felt  _ really _ good, and you needed him to fuck you  _ right now _ . Your body felt  _ alight  _ \- your skin was damp with sweat, and the bruises Sam had left on your collarbone stung as if to remind you they were there. Over you, Sam was trembling - he was barely holding himself up, by the looks of it, and he looked completely blissed out. His eyes were closed, and his hair, which had curled from sweat, hung in his face. His mouth was open some as he breathed, laborious and manual.

When the stretch had subsided, you crossed your ankles behind his slim back, dragging him in close and keeping him there.

“Fu- _ fuck me, _ ” you choked out, breathing ragged into his shoulder, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“Trying t-to--  _ oh, god, _ ” he groaned, his voice cracking in the middle of his sarcasm as your hips shifted on the table and you clenched  _ hard _ around his cock. 

His head lolled down to your collarbone heavily, and you could hear his fluttering breaths in your ear as he tried to remain coherent. Truth be told, so were  _ you _ \- the stretch was intoxicating, and your clit was  _ begging _ for attention at this point, and if he didn’t start moving you were going to switch spots with him and ride him on the goddamn table.

And then he actually did start moving, and  _ Jesus _ , you felt like an electric shock had zapped through you. Your hips bucked up against him - fuck, you wanted him deeper, harder,  _ more.  _ It felt selfish, but you didn’t  _ care _ \- you were horny out of your goddamn mind and knowing he wanted you as much as you did him was driving you fucking wild. His noises were incredible - whines and quivering moans that he tried his best to force down and keep quiet; he was doing a pretty good job of it by just keeping his head buried in your shoulder.

The pace he set started out slow - too slow, and you let out an exasperated groan. “Fuck, Sam,  _ please _ ,  _ faster- _ \-  _ hah! _ ”

He cut you off with a sharp thrust, and you keened at the feeling, tipping your head back as he started pumping in and out of you, blatantly restraining himself. God, that was  _ hot _ \- knowing he was holding himself back.  _ Let go, _ you thought, unable to vocalize much more than moans.  _ Let go and fuck me, you stupid blonde.  _ At a particularly heady thrust, your moan pitched up and your eyes squeezed shut - only to fly open at the feeling of a hand over your mouth. You looked down, then up at Sam, who had lifted his head from your shoulder.

“God, y-you don’t shut  _ up, _ ” he said with a grin, his chest heaving. “Wh-what was that you were saying earlier? About the  _ janitor _ ?”

He punctuated the last word with a  _ hard _ thrust, and your eyes bulged as you yelped into his palm, tasting sweat. Holy  _ fuck _ . You ground your hips up desperately as he started to fuck you - if he hit you at the right angle, he bumped your clit when he sank into you and it felt so fucking  _ good _ it made tears spring to your eyes. With you more or less silenced (though you were  _ definitely _ still making noise), you could hear  _ him _ , and the faster he railed into you, the louder he got.

“ _ God _ , you’re so-  _ fuck,  _ you’re so  _ pretty, _ ” he babbled raggedly, angling himself to get deeper inside of you. “You-  _ gh, god- you feel so g-good,  _ how do y-you feel so  _ good- fuck! _ ”

You all but sobbed against his palm, your spine arching against him as you chased the feeling of his cock. Your thighs were clamped around him as he fucked you, and that familiar feeling was building in your cunt again. That white-hot coil was getting tighter and  _ hotter _ , and you were barreling towards your second orgasm of the day with each thrust that Sam gave. The heady slap of wet skin on skin was driving you  _ insane  _ \- as was  _ Sam _ . His messy hair hung in his face, and his bruised, pink lips were gasping for air and moaning at the same time. His stupid tie had fallen onto your clothed stomach, and, looking down at it, you saw a flash of you - or maybe  _ Sam _ \- tied at the wrists with it, writhing--

The hand over your mouth was gone. You gasped, sucking in fresh oxygen with a modicum of relief -- but the pace never slowed or stopped. Sam still fucked you hard - you were just able to make noise now.

“Jesus  _ fuck- holy shit- god, Sam, right there! _ ” Your eyes squeezed shut as he hit that perfect spot inside you for the  _ second goddamn time. _

He let out a broken moan as he fucked into you _harder_ , if that was even possible. “You so-sound so _good,_ _hah, fucking- ah!_ _So- ngh!_ ”

You pawed at his shirt, your mouth hanging open as you panted for breath - you were close, really fucking close. When you got his attention, you struggled to find the air for words. “Fucking pull out,” you managed to breathe.

All you got was a nod before he doubled down, and a sharp inhale tore involuntarily past your lips. Broken syllables of mostly swear words streamed from both of your mouths, and then you felt his fingers on your clit and it was  _ over.  _ Already oversensitive from Sam’s earlier…  _ ministrations _ , you jolted as though you’d been touched with a live wire. He managed to get a few tight circles in on your clit, which had been  _ screaming _ for attention at that point, before you  _ came _ . You all but  _ sobbed _ his name as your orgasm crashed over you in tidal waves; the coil in your stomach snapped for the second time that day and heat flooded your body. Your eyes clenched shut and you struggled for air, your hands fisting in Sam’s shirt to keep you grounded.

Dimly, you heard him stammer out your name. “I’m gonna- I’m-  _ fuck, _ I’m gonna cum-  _ hah! _ ” His voice was pitched up and barely coherent.

When you opened your eyes again, you were lightheaded. Air came back to your lungs slowly, and you didn’t want to move for fear of this being a dream - or some stupid shit like that. You felt totally drained, but you were still buzzing in warm afterglow, enjoying the feel of a warm body between your thighs and in between your fingers. You had to come back to full consciousness eventually, though, and when you did, you met Sam’s eyes, feeling… really flustered. Probably more so than you should have been. Your breathing had slowed, though your heart did speed up a fair bit when you made eye contact with him.

He looked…  _ ruined _ . His shirt clung to his slender form, rumpled and messed up from where you’d clutched at it. Golden hair hung in his face in chunks - the normal style he so carefully maintained was totally gone, and his cheeks were a bright red. His eyes were lidded, though to you it seemed as though his irises held a little extra sparkle.

You looked down. Yep, he definitely pulled out. Cum was splattered over your inner thighs, and had begun slowly dripping down the soft flesh there. A small wave of relief washed over you as you watched a bead of it roll down your skin - though you wondered if you should still pick up some Plan B anyway. Just in case. That could wait, though, you thought as you swiped a finger through the fluid on your leg and brought it up to your mouth, tasting it. Kind of… sweet. Huh.

Sam stared, open-mouthed and eyes going wide as his gaze followed your finger to your lips intently. God, he was cute. When he wanted to be, of course.

“Do you have, like… a towel, or something?” you said, breaking the silence. You felt a little silly now, sitting there splayed on a table in your anatomy classroom with cum on your thighs.

That seemed to shake the blonde out of his reverie, and he spoke hastily, tripping over his words. “Ah, well, I- no, I don’t…” He scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly - then seemed to have an epiphany. “Wait - no, let me see, in my bag…”

He moved around you to root around in his things, eventually finding what he had been looking for - a navy sweater, which he handed to you with an abashed expression. You took it, and cocked an eyebrow at him, the corners of your lips pulling into a smile.

“Is this your designated fuck sweater? Nice color, I dig it.” You were being a total shithead, but it was funny to watch him turn tomato red.

If he’d been drinking, he probably would have done a spit-take. “What? N-no! It’s just… the only thing I have on me. I’ll… wash it when I get home.”

“If you’re sure,” you said with a shrug, though you did give him the courtesy of turning the thing inside out so the stain wouldn’t be on the outside. Carefully, you wiped your thighs clean before folding the sweater up and handing it back, a soft ‘thanks’ coming from your lips to show that you actually  _ were _ grateful for it.

It took you a second to get redressed - you had to pull your tights back on, and step back into your troublesome boots. It was a strange feeling, if you were being honest. You just got your brains fucked out in your empty anatomy classroom, and here you were, getting dressed almost mechanically. When you had put your outfit back together, you turned around to look at Sam, who was leaning on the table, looking at his phone.

You were about to get  _ mad _ \- then you realized what  _ expression _ he was wearing. One of general disbelief and incredulousness - what was he seeing that warranted a face like that? Curious, you made your way over, leaning over his arm to look at his phone screen. On it was an email from Mrs. B that read along the lines of  _ ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you guys when I left - I really had to go. But I emailed the office and told them you’d be studying in my room after school, so I asked them to let the janitors know so they didn’t come in and bother you.’ _

Your jaw dropped, and you stared at the phone, then at Sam. Then, unable to contain it any longer, you barked out a laugh, holding a hand to your stomach. The irony was just too perfect - especially considering the lines you’d both used on each other earlier.

“Holy shit, that’s fucking good,” you wheezed. Sam was laughing too, though not as uproariously as you. “I can’t  _ believe _ … that’s something. Whew, that’s something alright.”

“So our janitor debate meant nothing,” Sam said despairingly, throwing his hands up in mock anguish, and it sent you both into a fit of laughter again.

When your laughs died down, the room was left in sort-of uncomfortable silence. Who knew that it would get this awkward after sex? Maybe it was only awkward considering your…  _ history _ with each other. Was this a one time thing? Secretly, you hoped it  _ wasn’t  _ \- but of course, you weren’t going to admit that. Unless he did.

This time, he spoke first. “I… I’m sorry. For how I treated you.” He seemed suddenly self-conscious, not quite meeting your eyes and fidgeting a little. “I liked you. For a long time, too, I just… never knew how to tell you. I didn’t know how to  _ talk _ to you, really.”

“Usually, ‘like a normal human being’ works pretty well,” you said dryly. “I am capable of conversation.”

“Every time I tried, you didn’t want to talk,” he said, a little defensively.

“You never considered that it was because you one-upped me at every turn?”

“You did the same thing, if we’re being fair.”

“Only because--” You stopped yourself with a sigh. “It’s not worth the argument. Just… I’m not… mad at you. For the time being. You’re cool, y’know? When you aren’t--”  
“Being an asshole, I know,” he said, a wry grin appearing on his face for a moment. “I’d… really like to see you again. Besides our project. And _this_. If… if you want to.”

_ That _ somehow left you more flustered than anything else he’d said or done to you that entire day. Your brain buffered. He wanted to… see you again. That was with  _ date _ connotations. You and the school’s golden boy, out on a date - it was a funny mental image… but also  _ cute _ , unfortunately. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see  _ him _ again, too. You just had to work through your… admittedly complicated feelings toward him.

“Uh… yeah. That sounds good to me,” you said, scuffing your boot on the floor. “You, uh, want my number?”

Sam perked up, akin to a puppy. It looked as though he’d been preparing for a rejection, but honestly, you can’t just bang a guy in a classroom and then tell him to fuck off. Well, you  _ could _ , but it’d be a dick move.

You exchanged numbers with him, and you noticed that he put your name in his phone with a smiley face on the end. Your heart fluttered, just a little. That was a predicament - the stupid blonde you’d hated for so long was making you  _ feel _ things. But… it was a predicament that you could deal with later. 

You gathered your things and headed to the door while Sam hung back, wiping down the table you’d basically defiled because of  _ course _ he would. You stopped on the threshold though, your head turned over your shoulder.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, ignoring the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

His head perked up, and he brushed some golden hair out of his face. “Yeah?”

“Text me when you get a chance, will you?” You gave a tentative smile. “We’ll work out a date, or something like that.”

He smiled right back at you, and you finally got the chance to be on the genuine receiving end of one of his dazzling sunny smiles. It felt good. “Yes, ma’am.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile didn’t leave your lips as you walked out the door.

Stupid blonde.


End file.
